


Toy Boys

by RockyMountainRattlesnake



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action Figures, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Silly, Stuffed Toys, Toy factory, Toys, updates whenever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23071237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockyMountainRattlesnake/pseuds/RockyMountainRattlesnake
Summary: DuChenne-Smythe’s Toys is proud to announce two brand-new creations sure to delight young and old alike!From our Action Heroes line, we have G.I. Jack! This charming Action Man wannabe comes with several outfits, a questionably accurate haircut, built-in speaker, toy blasters, and should probably be kept away from all your other dolls at all costs.And from our Adorable Aliens series, we have The Doctor! This cuddly customer is sure to warm your heart with his surly scowl and adorable button eyes! Comes with light-up Sonic Screwdriver* and massive guilt complex, as well as removable jacket made from real leather!*DO NOT POINT SONIC SCREWDRIVER AT EYES OR FACE. SONIC SCREWDRIVER IS NOT A TOY.DuChenne-Smythe’s Toys is not responsible for injury, death, paradoxes, or any other harm that may arise from use of our products. Any resemblance to individuals living or dead is purely coincidental and not grounds for a kidnapping investigation.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

“Alright, where’ve we ended up now?” Jack asked as he stepped out of the TARDIS, taking in the tiny broom closet with a quirked eyebrow.

“Don’t know.” The Doctor said, stepping out after him with a glance back to make sure Rose was still with them.

Rose trotted up behind him with a broad smile, and the three of them stepped out of the cupboard and into the hallway.

It was a long corridor that curved away in both directions, quiet but for the distant hum of machinery and soft conversation several rooms away. It had the look of an office space- with chalky drop-ceiling panels and banks of insipid white fluorescents, fake plants on end tables and offices with grey doors and inset glass windows beside them.

“An office?” Jack muttered, “Of all the places for a distress call, an office?”

“The worst kinds of evil always seem to crop up in boardrooms,” the Doctor said sagely, scanning the air with his sonic for any untoward signals, “Nothing quite like a faceless corporation after profit at all costs to make everyone’s morals fly out the window…”

He frowned when the readings all came up negative, shrugging and jerking his head down the hall towards the sounds of machinery.

As they walked closer and closer to the thrumming heart of this place, the Doctor examining all the walls as they went. Nothing untowards by the look of it, but there was no telling what lurked behind the walls and behind closed doors.

Snippets of a conversation echoed down the hall, something that had their ears pricked up.

“BUT I ALREADY HAVE A BLOODY TREEHOUSE! I WANT ANOTHER STUFFIE, AND I WANT IT NOW! AND NOT ANOTHER DOLL, I _HATE_ DOLLS!”

A soft muttering, nearly inaudible, echoed down the corridor.

“WELL FIND ME A TWAT ON THE FACTORY FLOOR WHO DOESN’T HAVE FAMILY, I DON’T CARE! I WANT SOMETHING NEW!”

“Sounds like there’s a kid around here who’s not getting their way,” Jack muttered, and Rose shook her head incredulously.

“My mum would’ve grounded me for a _month_ if I’d talked like that to her…screamin’ for toys…” Rose said, disgusted.

The Doctor just nodded silently.

They rounded a bend, and immediately discovered the source of the shouting.

“And who are these people, Joseph?!” a little boy in a tailcoat with a fluffy blue cravat snapped at an aging butler following behind him, who merely sighed. The little boy’s face was red, as though he’d just been yelling- and at the sight of company, he smoothed out the lines in his suit coat and straightened up, folding his arms impassively.

“I’m not sure Sixtus…they didn’t call ahead. Excuse me!” the man snapped, straightening up, “This is a restricted area for employees only, and I shall have to call security if you don’t-“

“Ah, now, hold on a minute!” the Doctor said, pulling out his psychic paper, “I think you’ll find we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

“Oh- oh my, we weren’t expecting an inspection today-“ Joseph spluttered, “Oh my goodness, my deepest apologies, Inspector. Captain. Lady.”

“Lady? This oik?” Sixtus sneered as he looked Rose up and down, taking in her clothes and looking back at whatever was written on the paper.

Rose scowled and opened her mouth, the Doctor’s smile freezing up at the same instant Joseph’s did. The old butler grabbed his charge’s shoulder and coughed.

“Master, I don’t think it’s quite wise to insult the man’s entourage while they’re in the middle of an inspection…” he muttered, just as the Doctor was giving Rose a look that said ‘ _I know he’s being a little prick but right now isn’t the time.’_

Rose huffed and stepped back, folding her arms and glowering.

Sixtus for his part, just stared at the Doctor, and then at Jack. Like he was trying to make up his mind about something. And then, strangely he smiled.

“Very well. I apologize… _Lady_ Rose,” he said, insincerity dripping off every word as he turned back to the Doctor, “And as for you, I suppose I’d better show you the facilities then. Wouldn’t wish to keep His Imperiousness’s Royal Inspector waiting! I _do_ wish you’d called, the rabble we call our staff make a mess when Father isn’t about to crack the whip…”

The Doctor twitched, and Rose and Jack shared a look.

“Right. Ah. Just out of curiosity, is there not someone a bit older who’s running this place?” the Doctor asked, and the boy turned around- and strangely, he smiled.

“Actually, yes. Father owns this facility and when he’s around it runs like Helvetian clockwork. Unfortunately, Father is away on business right now, so the operation of this factory falls to me instead. **_RIGHT,_** Joseph?” Sixtus said with a pointed glare at his manservant, who merely sighed and nodded.

“Of course,” the Doctor said flatly, and Sixtus nodded sharply.

“Very well, then. If there are no more silly questions, please follow me.”

* * *

“As you already know, we produce the finest toys in the galaxy,” Sixtus said in a bored tone, gesturing to his side. They were in a hallway with glass windows on both sides, attached to the ceiling of a vast factory floor. Employees, some human and some alien, were scurrying around in white uniforms, tending a network of machines that were manufacturing components of various toys. Sixtus stopped walking briefly, a bored expression on his face- he looked down at his workers the same way one might look at ants scurrying about their garden.

“Right,” the Doctor said calmly, nodding as he watched the employees work. He wasn’t an expert on factories, but at the very least this one was making ordinary toys and not weapons or something like that. So…why the distress call…?

“One of the things that makes us far superior to all our competitors is our aggressive emphasis on research,” Sixtus continued to drone, walking away as though he’d given this speech a dozen times already- a tiny corporate tyrant in the making. If this was the son, the Doctor didn’t want to meet the father.

They had to trot to catch up to the boy as he lead them away from the factory floor and back into a long row of identical office doors.

“One of our latest innovations is our custom toy branch. We can make a toy from a drawing or a photograph, or best of all, a full-body scan.” He continued, punching in a code on a large black door that was distinct from the rest. Joseph stepped up and held the door open for his master and their little party, and Rose stifled a gasp as they walked into the room. 

It was the size of a school gymnasium, with a large machine on the far wall with hundreds of pipes and wires snaking up into the walls and ceiling. A bank of monitors stood at the far end, embedded into the machine at a comfortable height for adults. In the centre of the room, the tiling changed from sterile white to a soft lavender, demarcating a large square; Sixtus lead the little convoy onto the square and then stepped towards the machine, pressing a button on it.

Joseph, the Doctor noted, was staying back by the door- his jaw was clenched, and his face was drawn into a tight scowl.

A flash went off overhead, and Rose jerked her head up to look at the wall of lights and cameras on movable tracks that covered the ceiling.

“By entering this room you do agree to absolute secrecy regarding this prototype…” Sixtus was blathering in a bored tone, as he pressed yet more buttons. The machine began to hum and whirr, and conveyor belts that snaked from the belly of the beast and into the walls began to turn. After some wheezing and coughing and grinding and flapping, a box trundled out of a hole in the side- colourfully painted, with a stuffed toy inside. It was sewn to look like a cheerful smiling Slitheen- Rose snorted, and the Doctor folded his arms.

Sixtus gestured at the box, strolling back towards them with one hand in his pocket. The machine hummed away, clearly still running, but the demonstration was apparently over.

The Doctor was still trying to puzzle out exactly what would be so bad here as to require a distress call. Who would call for help for an ordinary toy factory? Sure the management was a bit Victorian- I.e. awful- but that was hardly reason to call in an alert…

As they left the room, Sixtus turned around and pointed a remote at the machine- which started to grind and wheeze again, just as the Slitheen toy trundled down the conveyor and into the next room.

Joseph closed the door behind them, and the Doctor caught the man’s eye.

He looked old, he looked haggard, and he looked strangely…guilty.

Joseph looked away swiftly and took up his place behind his master, following along faithfully.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the man, and kept walking. 

* * *

“Alright, well, that was a complete waste of our time. I didn’t exactly sign on to be shown a factory floor and lectured about figures for half an hour,” Jack said with a sigh, sitting back in the plush office chair with a groan.

They’d finished their tour and been herded into a little meeting room with a long central table, and an employee had brought them a tray of snacks and meals. She’d placed them down and quickly scurried away, not meeting their eyes.

Rose picked at the smattering of foods on her plate, jabbing at them with the not-fork that had come with the meal. All of it was weird alien stuff that smelled awful and looked even worse- what was with the future and posh people and terrible, terrible food?

“I agree,” the Doctor rumbled, shoving a forkful of something into his mouth and swallowing it without chewing, “That wasn’t the tour you give an inspector, that was the tour you give an _investor._ Something’s not right with that boy. I just wish I knew what- you don’t call in an alert ‘cause the management’s a bit of a prick…”

Jack shrugged and tucked into some souplike concoction that had been on one of the trays, tucking into it without complaint. Rose’s stomach turned a bit- were those _eyeballs_ he was eating?! Tiny ones, like from a haddock or something, but still-

Rose turned back to her food, trying to quell the unease in her stomach.

“That’s good stuff there, you know,” the Doctor said to her, “Mg’Toli sheds in labata sauce- that’s half a day’s wages in a lot of places in this galaxy. Give it a try, it’s not bad. Not my favourite, but not bad.”

Rose shrugged and speared a reddish lump drizzled in brown sauce and shoved it in her mouth.

And INSTANTLY spat it back out.

The taste, the BITTER TASTE- it was like she’d just licked the bottom of an ashtray and washed it down with a nice vinegar-and-battery-acid cocktail. This was COMPLETELY inedible-

Rose grabbed for her drink and took a sip, spitting it back out in the glass with a cough. SWEET. So PAINFULLY sweet, like a slushie on steroids, like someone had concentrated the flavour of strawberries so heavily it was downright painful.

Rose bolted up and started to cough, scrambling towards the door.

“M’gonna find a sink,” she croaked, “M’gonna be sick-“

Rose ran out of the room, leaving a bemused Doctor and Jack behind.

The Doctor shrugged and grabbed Rose’s plate, scraping her food onto his- if she didn’t want it, no sense wasting it.

“Bit of an acquired taste, that. Maybe I should’ve offered her some of mine.” Jack mused, and the Doctor shook his head.

“Eyeballs. She’s from the twenty-first century UK. That’s Mandonian eyeball soup. She’d never keep it down.” The Doctor said knowingly, still mulling over the factory and the kid and everything else.

“What did the signal say, exactly?” Jack asked, “might help us to pin it down.”

The Doctor shrugged and took a swig from his drink.

“Not much. Generic mauve, no specifics. You don’t call in a mauve for a brat. This factory’s not making weapons, their workers aren’t slaves, so…what the hell are they doing here that’s so awful?”

Jack sat back with a shrug, putting his head back on the rest and staring at the ceiling.

“I feel weird.” He said after a long pause, “Heavy. Weird and heavy.”

“Mmm.” The Doctor put his fork down and blinked a few times. Smacked his lips, mentally ran over what he’d just drank. That taste…

“I…yeah.” He said, leaning forward. Resting one elbow on the table and holding his head. Something wasn’t right- his head felt so, so heavy. Like he couldn’t sit fully upright….

He focused on his tongue again. It was hard to focus. Why couldn’t he focus…?

“I…oh, that’s…hm. There’s a trace of…uh…I think…Benzo…diaz…”he mumbled, blinking a few times. Heavy. His eyelids were getting heavy. This…this wasn’t good…

“We’re drugged,” Jack grunted, “I think…”

“I know.” The Doctor grunted. Trying to metabolize the chemical, redirect it somewhere else, but it was everywhere, he hadn’t noticed it because of the strong flavours of the food, and now it was-

It was-

“This isn’t good,” Jack mumbled, slumping back in his chair.

The Doctor sagged forwards, collapsing in a heap on the table.

His heavy, heavy eyelids slid closed one final time, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is Wy's fault. I BLAME YOU, WY.
> 
> While working on Polyergus, I've been thinking and doing scads of research and writing and re-writing chapters until I'm entirely happy with them. 
> 
> This is not that fic. 
> 
> Don't think too hard about this one. I certainly didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor regained consciousness slowly, unsure of what was happening and why his eyes were already open. It took him a second to figure out what he was staring at- a room beyond a small expanse of polished dark wood, all viewed through a piece of shiny cellophane.

He tried trying to groan- and froze in place when no sound came out.

Frantically, he looked around himself- he was trapped in something, something small- a box or a container of some sort, made of…of…cardboard?!

The Doctor swung his fist at the plastic frantically, and froze when it slammed against the clear wrapping.

That wasn’t his hand. That wasn’t a hand at all.

He pulled his arm back and stared at his hands, and attempted rather valiantly to start screaming. Or yelling. Or something. No sound emerged.

Two fluffy, fabric flesh-coloured nubbins stared back at him, poking out of a hand-knit olive jumper with a tiny doll-sized version of his jacket laid overtop of that. He looked down at himself- he still had his black trousers, scaled down to be about four inches tall- as for shoes, well. A quick kick of one of those legs in the confined space confirmed that yes, he was currently barefoot…or as barefoot as a small stuffed toy could be. And “foot” was a bit optimistic- he didn’t have feet so much as rounded flesh-coloured stumps instead of his typical black work boots.

The Doctor cradled his head in his hands. Alright, so, that hadn’t gone well. For whatever reason, his consciousness was currently stuck in the body of a _stuffed doll,_ which was…less than ideal. A cold spike of horror jabbed at the hearts he didn’t have anymore- what about _his_ body? Was it still okay?

He straightened up with a jerk. Doubtful that they’d miniaturized his brain- that would need technology that was beyond this lot’s level. They’d also need to construct a sophisticated apparatus to keep it alive and fed with nutrients, which-

He punched himself in the head a couple times, then gave it a squish with both arms. And feeling one’s own head squish in as though it was full of stuffing was…not entirely pleasant. But. That was some good news at least.

There was probably a relay somewhere inside this doll, then. Easiest way to do it- the way HE’D do it, if he’d absolutely lost his mind- would be to put the body in stasis so it wouldn’t go off, then remotely project the consciousness into the body of this doll. So there was probably a telepathic relay crystal in all this stuffing someplace…a few more squashes of his head revealed that yes, there was something hard in there.

Brilliant.

If he’d still had lungs, the Doctor would have huffed out a sigh of relief. Alright, so he wasn’t stuck in this doll forever- his body was somewhere else, and presumably fine. No reason to go pulling a chap’s brain out if you just wanted to stick his mind in a toy, for…whatever demented reason.

Okay, so that was one mystery solved. His body was most likely okay. Great. He was still stuck inside a cardboard box, and since he was a small stuffed toy the odds of punching his way out started level with the floor and went down from there.

He started to frantically thrash, trying to rock the box towards the end of the table- perhaps if he fell off the edge and hit the floor, the top would pop open and he’d be able to crawl out. Mercifully, some incompetent buffoon had put his cardboard prison close enough to easily topple off the edge- it just needed a nudge in the right direction.

He slammed his body against the plastic front, listening to it crackle and warp as the box scooted forward. And then again, flinging his pathetic mass against the sides of his cardboard cage, and every time the box would shuffle a little closer to the abyss below.

One more almighty slam, and the box wobbled perilously. It was right at the edge of the table, and the Doctor was getting a bit of vertigo- it was like standing on the edge of a three-story building. Not a gigantic drop, but more than enough to make him nervous.

He mentally growled and slammed himself against the plastic one final time, tumbling off the table with a sickening lurch. Gravity spun all around him as the box tumbled, light-dark-light-dark as the plastic turned away from the ceiling and towards the ground.

The box hit the floor with a muffled THUNK and a faint crunch, and to the Doctor’s annoyance, he was plunged into pitch-blackness- he’d landed facedown on the rug, and his only window to the outside world was currently pressed against the floor. 

It wasn’t like the impact was painful or anything. That was one advantage to being made of fabric and fluff, he supposed.

Still. Escape first, musings on the nature of being a sentient toy later. There was a thin seam of light somewhere overhead, and the Doctor crawled towards it, slamming his fists into the lid of the box. The cardboard was thin and bent easily, crunching under a few hits. A good strong whack tore the tape free from the paper on the sides, and the lid bounced up a small amount- enough to see by, at any rate.

The Doctor crawled out of his confine gratefully, standing up and taking a look back at his prison.

If he’d been able, he would have started swearing under his breath.

The box was done up to look like a TARDIS- of course- and he ambled over to it to examine the blurb on the back.

_Adorable Aliens #9- The Doctor!_

_Blast off to save the universe with this galaxy-trotting hero!_

_Collect them all!_

Below that was a selection of pictures of his previous incarnations, all done up to look a bit like him- button eyes, and a few of them had stitched-on mouths or eyebrows. They were all, admittedly, rather sweet looking- Four especially with the too-long scarf that looked like it was to scale.

Hopefully this was just something the machine had dreamed up for marketing purposes. Hopefully. Hopefully his past selves weren’t also trapped as stuffed toys in this house of horrors, or they could add a big fat steaming paradox on top of the rapidly sprawling pile of issues.

Also, “Blast off to save the universe”? the TARDIS didn’t BLAST, she dematerialized-

A better strapline would’ve been “The Amazing Time Travelling Homeless Man”, really. More straightforward.

In any case…he needed to find his body, and then he needed to find Rose and Jack. Preferably in that order but he honestly wasn’t all that fussy.

Rose hadn’t eaten any of that accursed lunch, and she’d gone off to find the loo, so…maybe she was wandering around somewhere? Hopefully she hadn’t been stuck in a stuffed doll like he had…

Well, finding Rose and Jack was contingent on getting out of this room, and his eyes fell on the door that towered miles over his head. He had to get that open.

The Doctor patted down his jacket, feeling a lump in the inside pocket. Had they really given him a sonic screwdriver? Excitement bubbled in him, and he pulled the tiny toy sonic out. Somehow or other, he was able to manipulate objects with his clumsy nubbin hand-things…or maybe it was just his screwdriver. Even so, with this, he’d be out of this room in a jiffy.

He pressed the button, trembling with excitement as he scrolled through the settings to unlock, and-

Hold on.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

The tone was the same each time- Seven dash crisps dash 4.31 – hedge trimming mode. And it wasn’t changing, no matter how he fiddled with it. No increase or decrease in pitch.

He pointed the sonic at the ground and hit the button.

A tiny blue laser dot illuminated the patch of linoleum in front of him, and nothing else.

If he could still talk, the Doctor would have started swearing.

Tiny toy sonic, and little more than a glorified laser pointer.

“Doc!”

He turned around in an instant, because that was Jack’s voice, albeit a bit tinny and canned. And instantly the Doctor toppled onto his ass in an attempt to scramble away, because the Jack that was walking towards him was not regular Jack.

It was Jack’s head, alright, with a slightly-perplexing hairdo and a doll-sized copy of his overcoat, slung over American army fatigues and on the body of a plastic doll. And alright, pots and kettles, Doctor Possessed Plushie probably didn’t have much ground to yell about his mate being a creepy walking Action Man, but for _Rassilon’s sake,_ it just looked unsettling the way Jack was lurching his way across the carpet.

“Doc! You alright?! Say something, come on!”

The Doctor facepalmed…er…facenubbined.

Jack’s lips weren’t moving, so it was safe to assume his doll had some manner of speaker. Right, first order of business after getting out of this room: get his hands on a power cell to boost his telepathic relay crystal, because this “Not being able to talk” thing was bloody rubbish.

Jack stopped in front of him, the two of them sizing each other up- interestingly, they were about the same size, despite being stuffed in totally different types of toy.

“…You can’t talk in that thing, can you?” Jack asked, and the Doctor folded his stuffed arms and shook his head.

“Great…” Jack groaned, cradling his head in his hands. Several comments came to mind at the motion- mostly that Jack looked as though he’d just strolled out of a Robot Chicken short- but once again his stuffed prison conspired to keep him silent on the matter. The Doctor mentally filed that away, already planning out the _extended_ griping session he’d be having once he got his voice back.

“Alright, so, uh. Well, I woke up over there under that table,” Jack said, gesturing at the wooden table that towered a mile overhead, “And…I take it you were in the box that looks like the TARDIS? Anyway, I think we’re basically alone in here, unless there’s someone else that’s in hiding. I just really hope we don’t run into that snot-nosed kid…”

The Doctor nodded, and started walking towards the table; it was hard to get a sense of what was and wasn’t in the room when he was only a foot tall.

Perhaps there was a power cell on the table? He hadn’t been able to look when he was up there, on account of the box. Action Man Jack had a speaker, so it stood to reason there’d be one in the room. After all, priority the first was a power cell, and priority the second was getting his blasted body back.

Jack tottered after him, looking around.

“Is it a bad time to mention that you’re kind of adorable like that? Seriously. Blue button eyes and everything. They even remembered your mole!” Jack giggled, and the Doctor stopped dead in his tracks and rather gingerly poked himself in the face.

Under one nubbin, he felt the unmistakable shape of a button.

He sagged forwards, wishing very badly that he could start swearing.

They were halfway to the table when the door slammed open, and both of them stopped dead and spun around.

“…And these ones had better be halfway functional, or FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS!” the voice of Sixtus echoed shrilly off the walls, and both the Doctor and Jack shrank away from it. It had been one thing to hear a petulant child screaming for toys when they were both six feet tall and able to tower over him; it was _quite another_ to hear it as a small doll a foot off the ground.

“More bloody dolls?” the brat sneered, and the Doctor wished he could swear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this cavalcade of dumb. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! I wrote a huge chunk of this in one sleepless go, so if it comes across as silly, that's why.


End file.
